


The Breakable

by DustySoul



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Claire as daredevil, Claire is a bamf, Claire-centric, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Murdock, the blind lawyer, gets kidnapped to draw out daredevil. And, this will surprise the reader, it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt on the kinkmeme http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=6405278#cmt6405278

The vail of separation, the shroud of mystery, between her and Matt gets thinner and thinner. It’s collapse is something she’s come to fear more than the men in dark alley ways, human traffickers, crime lords, the king pin… She doesn’t have nightmares about the man who tortured her. She doesn’t cower in front of him as he threatens her with a baseball bat. She doesn’t watch him swing it through the air, mere inches above her head, to shatter something on the car behind her. She doesn’t feel the tinny shards of glass trickling down her back like blood. And she doesn’t hear them tingling to the ground around her as she screams.

Instead she has much more vague nightmares. Nightmares about the faceless men who _will_ come and kill Matt when they find out he’s daredevil. And in these nightmares, always blurry, ever shifting, it is her who informed them. She never sees herself, never sees the evidence of what they must have done to take that information from her. 

Because that’s not the part that scares her.

And she knows, of course she knows, that she’d give in. How could she not? She knows pain and suffering and agony. She knows how much abuse the body can endure before it succumbs to death. She’s not been trained to face such horrors. She will break because she is breakable.

Her only comforts are that it hasn’t happened yet. And that the only useful thing she knows is that he’s blind and his name is Matt, probably short for Matthew. (And his face and that he’s Catholic.) Even that is probably enough…

Still, she has a list of things, in the after math of that night, that she _really_ doesn’t want to know about the man she pulled out of a dumpster: his full name, his day job, his address, the church he attends, knowing anything about anyone else he knows…

And, without her wanting them to, these, the only walls that can protect Matt, the civilian Matt, fall away. It starts when her burner phone rings and an unfamiliar voice answers. Her first thought, as her blood runs cold, is _Oh god, what happened to him?_ And her second is _Are they coming for me?_

By the end, the terror isn’t that Matt almost died ( _again_ ) but that now she knows where he lives and his best friend’s name.

(And the best friend looks far, far more breakable than she.)

 

The last shred of anonymity crumbles on a Tuesday. Claire’s just getting home from a twelve hour shift. She unlocks her door and scans her apartment with a vigilance and alertness twelve hours on her feet, and getting puked on, twice, can’t kill. Only once she’s sure she’s alone and everything secure does she relax, throwing herself into an armchair and turning on the TV.

She left it on a news channel and is about to change it when the BREAKING NEWS which is hardly ever all that breaking catches her attention. There’s a man, tied to a chair. A man who’s face she knows. His vacant eyes stare into the middle distance, a defeated expression on his bloody face. Her body goes hot and cold all at once.

The headline runs across the bottom reading LAWYER KIDNAPPED TO DRAW OUT LOCAL VIGILANTE. She can’t breathe.

The reporter says, “Matthew Murdock was kidnapped in front of his place of employment at 11:30 this evening.”

Claire checks the clock, 12:02.

The news shows the front of a building, zooming in on a sign that reads “Nelson & Murdock Attorneys At Law”.

And there it is. On national television for everyone to see. The world falling apart. And some how she had nothing to do with it.

Her cell phone rings as the camera cuts back to Matt. A figure steps in front of him and even though he’s wearing a hockey mask and the TV is set to mute she knows he’s jeering. Probably telling them someone should hurry up and save this man.

She takes the call, noticing only absently that of course it can’t be Matt, “Hello?”

“Um, Claire?” A vaguely familiar voice says. (She’d been trying to forget that voice because that’s what was safe.)

“…Foggy?”

“Have you seen the news?”

“Yeah, I’m heading over to Matt’s apartment now.” And the words she barely realizes she’s spoken spur her into action. She grabs her car keys from where she’s dropped them on the counter and heads back out the door.

“What are you going to do?” Foggy asks, sounding vaguely alarmed.

“Put on that stupid costume and rescue that bastard, what else?”

There’s a long silence that crackles over the other end. Claire’s ran down the stair well and gotten in her car and started the engine when he finally says, “Take the roof access from the south side of the building, just to be sure the reporters don’t see you.”

“Got it.”

Black girl breaking into an apartment like Matt’s… she definitely doesn’t want to get caught.

“And Claire?”

“Yeah?”

“Do um… you even know how to fight?” She can almost hear him cringe at his choice of words.

And… And… she started taking self defense lessons again, but she hasn’t gotten to the point where she can face something like five against one. Add to that the fact that these men definitely have experience and expertise in brutality… And guns. They are almost definitely going to have guns.

She finally clears her throat, releases the parking break, and says “They want Daredevil. The plan is: get in, make a distraction, maybe blow something up, and un tie Matt.”

There’s another long pause where she doesn’t think Foggy’s going to answer. Until he says, “Good luck.” And hangs up.

 _Good luck_. Yeah, she’s _really_ going to need it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because so many people requested it, chapter 2.

He was drugged. He’s not even sure how or why. When he comes too it’s in a room that smells like rotting fish, piss, and blood. It’s hard to focus pass those scents, to get an idea of his surroundings. He tries to move but finds some very secure knot work restraining him. 

“Ah, you’re awake.”

He freezes, barely breathing. He tries to focus on the man, his foot steps coming closer.

“Good evening, Matty.” The man’s breath smells like stale cigar smoke and the stake he had for dinner.

Matt coughs, turns his face away.

The man grabs him by the chin and man handles him. He turns Matt’s face this way and that. Matt has the sense that he’s studying his eyes.

“You really are blind.” The man confirms with a low whistle.

“What do you want with me?” Matt hisses. His voice is faint from the drugs still running through his system and it rings a little in his ears.

“Not much of anything. There’s a vigilante, Daredevil, you heard of him?”

Matt nods. He doesn’t even stiffen properly he’s too intoxicated.

“Well, he’s got a real soft spot for little kids and old ladies. We wanted to see if that extended to blind do-gooders. You’ve got quite the reputation out there, Matty.”

He doesn’t sense the punch so he doesn’t know it’s coming until after it’s landed on his cheek and toppled him over.

“We’re just going to rough you up a bit.” The man says righting Matt and the chair he’s tied to, “And then we’re going to set up a camera and take some pretty pictures of you all nice and bloody.”

He blames his inability to come up with a plan on the drugs. He has no idea if the police will try to come or who these men are or why they think Daredevil watches the ten o’clock news. His thoughts keep circling back to _my hands and legs are tied, one of my wrists is broken, and I’m not in costume_. It’s just three little things he needs to fix in able to have a fighting chance but any ideas about _how_ he might improve his predicament escape him.

There is a banging on some distant metal door. Or maybe it only sounds distant because is ears are ringing from his last blow to the head. He had to stop paying attention to the men and what they were saying to him, each other, and to the camera. He snaps back to the present now. He can sense them, five of them, three with guns. They stand alert and he can smell the adrenaline in their sweat, sense there excitement and anticipation. There is only a small under current of fear.

And then he can sense her.

 _Claire_.

Claire, and the leather like fabric of _his_ costume.

Just as Matt thinks _this is a terrible idea_ and one of the goons goes for his guns the lights up a head flare, spark, and die.

 _This is an even worse idea_.

Under the men’s calls to each other, each panicking, having forgotten the devil prefers the darkness, he can hear Claire’s foot falls. Before his captors can pull their shit together long enough to send someone to the circuit breaker, Claire’s cut him free.

He can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief when the ropes no longer pull at his broken ankle. He finds one of Claire’s hands in the dark and squeezes.

She, with out preamble, hauls him up princess style and carries him away. 

Once there out of the shadow of the building she starts to strip out of the costume. “Do you want to go back there and give those guys hell? I don’t know if they’ll think it’s strange or not, considering all the trouble you went to while rescuing me.”

He thinks about, tries to balance without the support of the wall he's leaning on. His world on fire turns to smoke, the nothing he sees spins, and he pitches backwards against the wall. The brick scrapes his back and he has to admit defeat. "I couldn't. Even if I wanted to." He says, a little chagrined. "I think I know enough of these men to track them down again, if the police don't get there before me." 

Claire nods and scoops him up again.

Matt makes a wordless protests. It's a horribly garbled, "I can _walk_." Because before he's even gotten the first sound out, he remembered. 

“Shh you. I’m enjoying this ‘saving the damsel’ thing. Let me have my moment.”

She’s teasing and Matt smiles. He can feel her pride and self satisfaction in her stride.

“Plus” Claire says, approaching lights and sirens. “This is the perfect excuse to get you checked out by a real hospital for once.” and sets him on a gurney.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
